


What Hurts the Most

by Nicknacks22



Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types, spideypool - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Break Up, M/M, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:12:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nicknacks22/pseuds/Nicknacks22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade left him and now Peter must deal with the consequences and face the truth about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Hurts the Most

**Author's Note:**

> This contains descriptions of SELF-HARM please don't read if that offends you. Also, this is my first ever attempt at Spideypool so I hope I did a decent job and that you like it.

Peter scrubbed angrily at the tear-smudged lead with his pencils eraser. He had been attempting to do his Calculus homework for the past hour, but having to stop and wipe his eyes every few seconds wasn’t helping. Crying wasn’t something he was used to doing, in fact he hated it, did anything to distract himself from it, but even the safe haven of numbers and logic couldn’t keep his eyes dry tonight. The paper tore with a soft rip and he cursed, not even realizing that he had been furiously scrubbing at the mark this entire time.

His notebook and pencil clattered to the floor as he shoved them from his desk, making room to plant his elbows and bury his face in his hands. Even in his self-made haven the tears flowed, hot and heavy on his hands. It wasn’t like him to break down like this. He was the genius Peter Parker and the hero Spiderman. He wasn’t the kind of person who let a boy break his heart. Only he had.

 

“Peter, I’m bored! Put the book down already and take your pants off!”

Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to cut off the headache that he could feel forming. He didn’t want to snap. Didn’t want to let his anger get the best of him, but he could feel it rising up, bubbling and hissing in his stomach. It wasn’t like Wade could help it. So maybe he was a murderous mercenary and maybe he was older than Peter, but at heart he was a child.

Something hit him in the back of the head, startling him. Peter whirled around, leg hitting the cord of his nearby charging laptop and sending it crashing to the floor.

“God damn it, Wade, look what you made me do! Could you please just grow up for like five minutes? Or is that too much to ask?”

Looking up and seeing the Merc naked, except for his mask, did nothing except further his rage; especially when he chose not to respond. The younger boy couldn’t see the expression on the masked man’s face, but he doubted it was one of penitence. 

“Seriously, what is your problem,” he shouted, looking down to see what had been thrown at him.

On the floor at his feet was a small, plush Spiderman. Achingly cute with big, wide eyes, Wade had won it for him at a carnival and Peter couldn’t bear to get rid of it, regardless of how stupid he thought it was. Normally it inspired good feelings, recalled fond memories. That had been such a good day. They had kissed and laughed, and even if Wade had scared a few kids, it had still been one of the most fun days Peter could remember.

Now though, the stupid plush served as the header of the running list of all of Wade’s flaws. He was childish, selfish, self-centered, self-obsessed, narcissistic, cold, obnoxious, manipulative, impatient, angry, and basically an asshole. And this time, Peter had had enough.

As he stood there, he realized that Wade still hadn’t said a word, hadn’t moved from his position on the bed. Fuming, he crouched down to check on the fallen laptop.  
“You better hope this isn’t broken. If it is you’re buying me a new one,” he said. “Or more likely stealing,” he added as an afterthought, not caring when it came out much crueler sounding than he had intended.

Finally, he heard the sound of creaking bed springs and the sound of Wade’s bare feet hitting the floor of the apartment. He refused to look up though. Instead, he booted up the computer, inwardly sighing in relief as it powered on, but still insisting on making a show of checking that all of its processes were in order.

“Looks like you got lucky this time, Wilson. All of my files are on here, do you know how much damage you could have done? Next time, try thinking about something other than your dick okay? Thanks.”

The sarcasm was palpable in the air, feeling the small space with tension, but Peter didn’t want to stop. He was on a roll. It felt good to let it all out, to tell Wade all of the things about him that drove him insane. He felt like he was in a position of power for once. Opening his mouth to continue his tirade, he was interrupted by a loud, shattering crack.   
Wade was standing in the middle of the area that served as their kitchen/dining room, calmly studying his hand that was dripping a steady stream of scarlet. The fragmented remains of a plate were scattered across the table and floor from the force of the blow.

“What the? Wade. . .”

“Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.”

Peter stood, moving towards the mercenary, but stopped short, body frozen in mid-step. Wade had taken off his mask and stood staring Peter down in all of his scarred glory. The younger boy had never seen him like this before. The crazy light was gone from his eyes; there wasn’t even the furious, battle crazed look that sometimes came out during arguments. Instead, they were blank and emotionless.

“You know what, Parker, I don’t want to hear you say another word. It’s my turn to talk, and you’re going to shut your arrogant mouth and listen.”

The brunette didn’t even consider responding, his mouth had snapped shut with the force of the other man’s words.

“It must be so easy for you. How could it not be when you think you’re so much better than me? Oh, I don’t need to pay attention to Deadpool, he’s just blabbering away like always. Oh, he wants tacos, what a simpleton. Scientific genius and superhero extraordinaire Peter fucking Parker doesn’t need to pay attention to the lowly, idiotic, sex-crazed Wade Wilson now does he? Well news flash, kid, other people matter!”

Peter was stunned. The laptop he was holding had grown hot against his hands and he set it back down on his desk with a careful precision. He didn’t know how to react to this Wade.

“Finally at a loss for words are we? And here they call me the Merc with a Mouth. That was quite a little speech you gave there. I bet it’s just so hard for you isn’t it? Having so much difficult homework to do and having the horrible nuisance of a boyfriend who wants you. Your life must be so hard. Well, guess what Spidey! I’ve had enough. I hope you have an awesome time doing your homework and feeling superior, because you’ve finally pushed away the only person who could stand being around you for more than a few minutes.”

Wade was slamming the door behind him and gone before Peter even realized that he had accidentally ripped the Spiderman plush in half.

 

The wracking sobs that rolled through his body were beyond suppression now, and Peter could do nothing but let them come. It hurt. It hurt so much more than he ever realized it could hurt. And the worst pain was the knowledge that Wade had been right. He had lost the one person who he had thought would never get sick of him. Who had assumed was so in love with him that nothing would ever drive him away. Whose feelings he had never considered.

A sudden urge to vomit tore through him and he stumbled trying to get out of his chair. Catching himself, he crawled on hands and knees to the open door of the bathroom, leaving a trail of tears in his wake. The cool tiled floor of the bathroom felt so good on his bare skin, a blessed relief, that he immediately stripped, curling up naked at the base of the sink. He had never felt so pathetic in his entire life.

This was the real Peter Parker. Not a genius. Not a hero. Just a stupid, selfish, self-absorbed prick. He was ashamed of himself, especially about how he had always treated Wade. No matter the man’s flaws he had never deserved all of the shit that he had given him. It had been bullying, plain and simple. His way of feeling in control, of building himself up with his treatment of the, he had thought, inferior person. 

He was a monster. Uncle Ben had always told him that with great power comes great responsibility, and he was only realizing now, much too late, that this included the great power he had had over someone who loved him. Now he had betrayed both of the only two men whose love he had known.

The strength to push himself up off of the floor came with the resolve of his decision. He was a disappointment and that was all there was too it. Wade’s razor laid haphazardly on the rim of the sink, handle sticking out over the basin as always. By leaving it there he had allowed himself the fantasy that the mercenary was going to return, but he knew now how childish that daydream had been.

Grasping the handle he felt a sudden closeness to the man whose scarred hand had held this same razor so many times. It hurt him to know how undeserved even that fading feeling of closeness was. It was with some relief that he finally brought the cold metal blades down to touch his wrist. This felt right. The four scarlet lines that blossomed along his wrist burned in their creation, but that small pain was blotted out by the aching reminder of how the blood-stained kitchen floor was all that he had left of Wade, the only man he would ever love.


End file.
